


Siriusly (or the one where the Winchesters -- and just about everyone else -- turn into dogs)

by bellatemple



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Animal Transformation, Crack, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-01
Updated: 2008-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellatemple/pseuds/bellatemple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic has gone to the dogs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siriusly (or the one where the Winchesters -- and just about everyone else -- turn into dogs)

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, uh. I'm in the shower, working through a particular bit of introspectiveness of an angsty scene for my [](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_j2_bigbang**](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/) fic, and suddenly I get this mental image that has me laughing out loud into my loofah. And this? This is the result. All images are royalty free from [Getty Images](http://www.gettyimages.com).

Okay, so. Offing that _particular_ pagan god might have been a bit of a mistake.

Dean woke up slowly in a sunbeam with no particular urge to get out of bed. He flopped over onto his back and enjoyed the way the sun warmed his stomach and let out a contented growl.

An answering growl echoed from the other bed.

. . . Right, that was a little bit weird. He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes.

The great dane in the other bed lifted its ginormous head and regarded him with a mournful expression, then barked.

Funny thing, he could understand exactly what it was saying.

"About time you woke up."

"Huh?"

When had his voice gotten that high? Dean looked down his belly.

And saw fur.

"Sammy,"

The great dane huffed.

"Sammy. Sammy, I'm a dog,"

"Yeah, Dean. I noticed."

* * *

  
Sam, the Great Dane

* * *

Dean stared at his reflection in the mirror.

He'd had to jump up onto the counter to do it.

He was a dog.

He was a freakin' _dog_.

Sam the great dane popped his head up over the counter and regarded Dean in the mirror. Dean stared back at him.

"Dude. You totally turned into Marmaduke."

"Yeah? Well, you turned into Benji."

"Shut the fuck up."

* * *

  
Dean, the Floppy Eared Mutt

* * *

*Hop*

*Hop*

*Hop*

"Need a boost?"

"No."

*Hop* Almost --

*Hop* Just about --

*Hop* Goddammit!

*Hop* There!

Dean latched onto the driver's side door handle with his teeth, thinking serious apologies to his baby for the rough treatment. Then he hung there for a moment, twitching his butt around in the air as he tried to get the leverage to open the door.

"Dude, even if you get inside, how are you going to turn the ignition? Or reach the pedals? Or see over the steering wheel?"

Dean growled at Sam, mouth still full of door handle, then finally dropped back to the ground when his teeth started to hurt.

"Shut up and open the door, bitch."

"It's not going to work."

"It totally is."

"Dean. Dogs can't drive."

"Says you. I'm Benji. Benji could do anything. And we gotta get to Bobby's."

"We could always --"

"Dammit, Sam, this isn't _Homeward Bound!_ "

* * *

Except, you know, that it _was_.

* * *

They bedded down the first night in a patch of weeds off the backwoods highway, curling up together for warmth, despite the welcome addition of furry insulation to their new bodies. Or, rather, Sam the ginormous great dane wrapped himself almost completely around Dean the little freakin' yappy dog. Dean curled up and tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

And made an amazing discovery.

"Dude, what are you -- _DEAN!_ "

"What?" Dean's tongue lolled out, curiously seeking -- almost -- _ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_ yeah. There it was.

There was a god.

" _Dude!_ That's disgusting."

Sam was just jealous he hadn't thought of it, first.

* * *

Traveling across the state on foot was a total pain in the ass. And it took forever. And he kept thinking of his poor baby, back at the motel.

"Dude, this sucks."

"Gee, Dean, you could always cheer yourself up by licking your balls, some more."

". . . That's not a bad idea."

"I hate you."

* * *

They got to Bobby's in one piece with no more than your standard, almost-getting-swept-away-in-a-stormy-flood and oh-no-dog-catcher-run! adventures. A squat, broad shouldered, smooshed faced dog awaited them, growling, on the other side of the fence.

"Dude. It's a dog. We're dogs. Maybe we can talk to it."

"Right. Go for it."

"Why do I have to --"

"You're, like, fifty times its size, Sam. Just, go sit on it, or something!"

"Sam?" said the other dog, curiously. "That you?" It blinked at Dean, and its stubby little ball of a tail started wagging. "Dean?"

Holy crap. "Bobby?"

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"Well." Dean the mutt looked to Sam the great dane, then back to Bobby the bulldog. "Shit."

* * *

  
Bobby, the Bulldog

* * *

Bobby had no more a clue of what was going on than Sam or Dean did, but at least he had access to food that wasn't rabbits -- Sam had had a lot of success catching those on the journey to the salvage yard, but Dean could never watch him do it -- and central heating. They decided to hole up there and try looking through some of his books.

"I ain't heard of anything like this, boys."

"Don't worry," Sam said, soulful brown eyes peering down at both of them while he used one giant paw to drag a few dusty tomes off Bobby's desk to the floor, where they could all better reach them. "We'll find something."

Dean wandered restlessly around the room while Sam and Bobby tried to work out the best way to turn the pages without tracking mud across them. "At least there's one good thing about this situation,"

"Yeah?" Bobby grunted. "What's that?"

Sam groaned. "You don't want to know."

* * *

Two days after Sam and Dean arrived, a graceful, well groomed collie showed up with a fluffy looking, tiny little dog close at her heels. Bobby, Dean, and Sam all smelled them coming from far enough away that they were at the fence to greet them.

"Bobby?" The collie asked. The other one bounced up and down on its back legs like a pogo stick.

"Is that Dean? Where's Dean? I can't see, Mom, you're in the way."

"Jo, calm down!" barked the collie. Dean blinked up at her.

"Ellen?"

"Dean?" Ellen hazarded. "I'm guessing Sam's the giant one."

Sam nodded seriously.

"This is so freakin' weird," Dean noted.

* * *

  
Ellen, the Collie

* * *

"Dude. Jo turned into one ugly dog."

"She's a long haired chihuahua, Dean. Probably purebred."

"No way. Her mom's a Lassie."

"Collie."

"Dude, if you can call me a Benji, I can totally call her a Lassie." Dean huffed, paced three times in a circle, and settled down onto the rug.

"I swear to God, Dean, if you start licking yourself again, I'm gonna --"

"You could, like, eat her."

"What?"

"Jo. In, like, one gulp."

Sam rolled his eyes and left the room.

Awesome. A little bit of privacy for Dean and his furry boys.

* * *

  
Jo, the Long Haired Chihuahua

* * *

The greyhound bitch that arrived the next day was a surprise. Her scent was familiar, but it was hard to place. She had an expensive looking necklace playing the role of a collar, and glared at Dean through the gate like he'd done her horribly wrong.

He was struck with the weirdest urge to go stick his nose up her butt.

"And just who the hell would you be."

The greyhound looked down her long nose at Dean. "Someone looking for Bobby Singer."

Barking with a British accent. Now that took skill.

"Bela?"

The greyhound leaned down and sniffed delicately at him. "Dean. What a joy it is to see you again."

Dammit, how come the only one smaller than he was was freakin' _Jo?_

"Guess you'd better come inside, then. Gang's all here."

Bela turned her nose up, looking disgusted. "Lovely. I'd better not catch fleas."

"Oh nooooooo, your highness, wouldn't want _that_ ," Dean backed up to let her precede him, lowering his head down toward his front paws in a sarcastic bow. "After you, Princess."

Bela practically pranced forward, and Dean bounded after her.

And stuck his nose up her butt.

* * *

  
Bella, the Greyhound

* * *

Instincts sucked.

Doggie style wasn't too bad as a doggie, though.

* * *

That night, the salvage yard received its final visitor. It came in on a gust of hot, stinking, sulfurous air, seemingly made of pure darkness, and waited at the gate until all of them, Dean the mutt, Sam the great dane, Bobby the bulldog, Ellen the collie, Jo the chihuahua, and Bela the greyhound, gathered on the other side.

It gazed upon the ranks of them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth, long and as black as its fur. Its teeth were huge, pointed, glistening things, dripping saliva that made the ground hiss like it was being burned. Its eyes were barely visible, glittering black in heavy black fur.

A hellhound.

Dean let out a low growl, bearing his own fangs at her, poised for an attack. Sam stepped in front of him, as did Bobby. And Ellen. And Bela. And Jo, who had to bounce up and down like a pogo stick just to see over the others, but gamely growled and barked. A vicious, attack pogo stick.

Dean dodged between Sam's legs, jumped over Bobby's back, skirted around Ellen, ran right under Jo on one of her upswings, and shouldered Bela aside. "I still have four months."

"I'm not here to collect," the hellhound said.

Sam abruptly sat down. Dean was suddenly very glad he wasn't behind him, any more.

". . . Ruby?"

The hellhound cocked its head and nodded. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and Dean saw that she wasn't all that hellish at all, really. Just a big ass newfoundland, all fluffy black fur and floppy ears.

A hellhound with a heart of gold.

Chyeah, right.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked. Ruby snorted and started panting.

"I came to fix this." She nodded to the group of dog-hunters. Well, dog-mercenary-bitch, in Bela's case. "You're not supposed to be this way."

"She's a freakin' genius," Dean barked.

Sam huffed, big, droopy lips flying out sideways with the sound. "How the hell are you gonna fix this?"

"With some advice. You need to appease the gods."

"We need to what now?" Jo demanded, bouncing into the air twice to get the whole sentence out.

"Not all of you, just them." Ruby nodded to Dean and Sam. "They're the ones who offed the wrong pagan deity."

. . .

Yeah, killing that one pagan god had _definitely_ been a mistake.

* * *

  
Ruby, the ~~Hellhound~~ Newfoundland

* * *

"I feel like an idiot, Sam."

"Shut up and do the ritual, Dean."

"This rowan crown thing itches."

"Stop rubbing at it."

"Dude, it _itches!_ " Dean sat back on his haunches and raised his left hind foot to his ear. "How long do I have to wear this?"

"Just until I'm done crushing the leaves and burning them."

"And how are you planning to the use the lighter?"

". . . I'm working on that."

"My brother, the freakin' great dane genius."

"Shut up, Benji."

"Kiss my furry ass, Marmaduke."

* * *

In the end, they were only stuck as dogs for maybe a fortnight. Dean wasn't entirely sure what a fortnight _was_ , but it seemed like about the length that he'd been furry. Changing back was as smooth as changing . . . forward, or whatever, had been. They just went to sleep and woke up human, wearing whatever it was they'd been wearing when they'd changed in the first place.

Which meant getting a load of the fact that Bela hadn't been lying about the sleeping naked thing. But also finding out Bobby slept that way, too.

And that was way more of Bobby than Dean ever needed to see, thanks.

Dean propped one bare foot up on Bobby's desk and cracked his knuckles, perfectly comfortable in just his jockeys, thanks. Sam kept fidgeting and recrossing his arms over his bare chest, curling his toes under the edges of his pajama pants.

"So, uh." Sam wouldn't look at Dean. "How the hell are we gonna get back to the car?"

"I suggest you start walkin', Sammy-boy."

"What?! Dean, that's like, miles away!"

"Who was the one who wanted to abandon my baby in the first place?"

"Maybe Bobby'll let us borrow the --"

"Nope. No way am I driving the Soccer Mom Mobile again. Get hoofin', Marmaduke."

"You're a freakin' jerk."

Dean just smirked and folded his hands behind his head.

* * *

So, uh. Just for the record. Doggie style? Totally awesome when you're human, too.

But Dean already knew that.

Wasn't so sure Bela had, though.

The End

  
This has been _Siriusly_ , a crack fic by Bella Temple, the Miniature Dachshund Being Eaten By a Fluffy Scarf


End file.
